


The Wee Hours of Night

by littleangels



Series: When You’re Gone [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, alternative titles include, and my favorite, angel back at it again with angst and death, except without the comfort part, i like to suffer 3.0, pain is my name and suffering is my game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 19:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6671500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleangels/pseuds/littleangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the nightmares of Hawk Moth haunt her dreams, and sometimes the nightmares come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wee Hours of Night

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was finished with the series but here comes the return of “hello yes hi i like to suffer so you guys should suffer with me” 3.0 because I can’t seem to write anything but angst nowadays.

They lay next to each other on the living room floor, reveling in the warmth the other provided.

Who needs couches anyways, right?

Marinette cannot sleep. Another nightmare plagues her memory that evening—of Hawk Moth, of akumas, of bloodied fists—and she finds herself waking up to ragged breaths and blotchy eyes.

She goes to Adrien—she always goes to Adrien. They stay with each other, cling to each other in the late hours of the night. With him, time jumps back several years, back to when adrenaline pumps through their veins and adventure awaits on the rooftops of Paris. She is thankful for the relief that fills her lungs. The idea of someone having her back is comforting.

Marinette asks him if they can move to the living room—her bedroom is scarily dark—and he readily agrees.

And so they simply lay down on the soft carpet floor of their apartment, staring at a blank ceiling.

No words pass between them. That’s how it usually is. They just silently settle into their spot. Marinette remembers how calming Adrien’s slow, deep breaths sound to her ears.

Adrien gently bumps his shoulder against hers. It is a soft touch, almost ghostly, almost like he isn’t there.

“Mari?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “I feel a little better,” she admits. “Thanks for being here, Adrien. It means a lot.”

He smiles, and it is bright and happy. “Of course,” he replies. “It’s our thing, after all. We depend on each other.”

“Right.” Marinette smiles too, but it looks strangely out of place. Something twists in her gut, but when her mind is muddled from nightmares, everything feels out of place. Knowing this, she tries to swallow back her fears. _Adrien is here_ , she thinks, and, as if to reassure herself, she gives his hand a squeeze.

A moment of silence that is neither uncomfortable nor comfortable passes between them.

And still. Marinette is unable to shake off the anxious heartbeat ringing in her chest. As her stomach knots, she squeezes her eyes shut and wraps her arms around Adrien’s torso, burying her head in his chest.

“Adrien?” Her voice is muffled by his shirt.

“Hmm?“ His voice is light, and although her face is pressed to his chest, she could barely feel the rumble of his whisper. “What is it?”

“I’m scared.”

“Can I ask what you’re scared of?”

She swallows. “I’m scared,” she repeats. “I’m scared of losing you.”

Marinette feels Adrien press his lips to her forehead. It is very brief and swift, as if the wind is kissing her.

“You aren’t going to get rid of me that easy,” Adrien says. “I’m right here, Mari.”

 _Wrong_. _Wrong_. _Wrong_.

Something is very wrong.

There is something about the way he says those words that send chills down Marinette’s spine. His voice reaches her ears, but he sounds distant, like he’s screaming at her from a faraway place.

And Marinette doesn’t want to _think_ , _think_ , _think_ because thinking is scary, and so she intently squeezes her eyes shut as if the mere gesture will be enough to ward off her thoughts.

And Marinette tells herself not to _feel_ , _feel_ , _feel_ , but she makes the mistake of squeezing Adrien tight— and something odd happens.

Something sharp pokes at her cheek. Marinette winces and pulls back from her embrace.

Adrien says nothing as she pulls a feather out of his chest.

 _A feather_ , she thinks, gingerly holding the small thing between her thumb and forefinger.

Ah. Right.

Her mind is still disoriented, but she comes to her senses. She can do that, at least.

Marinette releases Adrien and looks up to meet the empty gaze of her favorite living room pillow.

She has been hugging a pillow all this time.

“Right,” she says with an aching crack in her voice. “No wonder I’m always scared. You aren’t here anymore, Adrien.”

 _You aren’t here to protect me anymore_.

Marinette closes her eyes and cries herself to sleep again. She hopes the nightmares won’t get her this time.

(They do anyways.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you suffered, leave some kudos! If you didn't suffer, leave some kudos! If you liked it, leave some kudos! If you didn't like it, leave some kudos!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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